Harry Potter and the Terrible What Ifs
by HPMJ
Summary: A series of one shots evolving around the limitless question of 'what if'. What if Severus Snape had taken Harry from Godric's Hollow? What if Hagrid never came to get Harry? What if Lily wasn't dead? What if... What if... Multiple pairings and a bit of good fun. Rated T to be safe.


_**Disclaimer: As much as I would love to I do not owe Harry Potter or any of the original characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.**_

AN: I've been juggling this idea for a while now. I thought it'd be pretty interesting to do a series of 'what ifs' and see how they would affect the overall picture. As you can see from this first (hopefully, of many) one shots the smallest details can trasform the future into something entirely different. I hope you enjoy reading this and I would love to hear some feedback. If you have any ideas for the 'what ifs' please, do message me or review. Thanks! Anyway, enough with the boring talk, on with the story.

Also I do know the part about Severus being in Godric's Hollow the night Lily and James died was not in the book, but hey, it was in the movie, I just wanted to write this out. ;)

Oh and the quotes belong to Pat McHale.

* * *

**What if Severus Snape had taken Harry Potter from Godric's Hollow?**

_"In the dark recesses of the mind, a disease known as FEAR feasts upon the souls of those who cannot overcome its power..."_

_31 October 1981._

Lily Evans – even now I could not bear to see her as Mrs. Potter – was thought to be dead.

I refused to believe it. I refused to believe The Dark Lord took away her life; that Dumbledore had failed to protect her – and her family. I rejected the current state of things, deeming them untrue.

I had to see it for myself, with my own two eyes.

Acting on an impulse was a rarity in my life. I always had to calculate the facts, weigh my options, consider the consequences but that day I had neither patience nor the ability for such a thing. My judgment was clouded because of the fear looming over me. I was simply unable to think logically, so I did not. As soon as I heard the supposed news I apparated straight into Godric's Hollow. I did not learn until a long while later that, unsurprisingly, it was a disastrous idea after all.

The night was cold, the moon and stars entrapped behind the veil of dark clouds. The thunder and lightning were tearing up the sky – ironically matching the turmoil I was fighting inside. There was something eerie about the place that bugged me to no end, something I could not quite put my finger on. I marched with false bravery down the street looking for the house. I walked quickly, giving myself close to no time to think this through; not allowing myself the opportunity to go back on the plan. After what seemed to be an eternity but have been, in reality, a minute later, my eyes locked on the house I had been looking for. I let out the breath I did not realize I was holding. There was a huge hole in the roof, and it did not look good. I hesitated.

I should have just left, turned around and left right there and then; it was not my battlefield to intrude on. I could not bring myself to. I needed to see the situation, see her, for myself. Whether she was alive or dared I say it, dead, I needed to see it.

Back at that moment I did not know what I was about to witness and have to withstand. I was in no way prepared for it.

As I walked up the porch I could see the opened door, but it was only when I was a mere feet away that I noticed that it was hanging off its hinges. It was yet another chance to turn around and walk away. I did not take it.

The worst case scenarios were all that my mind consisted of except for that one tiny speck of hope that fought to stay. It was irrational.

Perhaps she – they – managed to get away before He got to them? Maybe she escaped unharmed…

I gave the door a little push and it opened, creaking creepily. My wand was at the ready should the 'enemy' suddenly appear and launch curses at me. I half-hoped the 'enemy' would come around in the shape of James Potter. No such thing happened.

I stalked through the ground floor; there was nothing there for me to see. Eventually I reached the stair case, ignoring my surroundings including the little toys that were lying around, they brought no comfort. My mind was desperately trying to focus on anything but what I was about to discover, noting irrelevant things such as the fact that the first, fifth and seventh stair creaked.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs the first thing my eyes were drawn to was a dark figure lying on the ground, limply. The lightning struck filling the corridor with a flash of light. However brief, it was enough for me to recognize who it was. I do not think you could ever truly forget the face of your first nemesis, first nightmare. James Potter was dead and the proof laid there at my feet. I have seen similar scenes in my dreams, however cruel that might sound, but never have I felt so bad about seeing him dead. The chances of Lily still breathing were decreasing by the second and desperation was slipping into my lungs and pressing down on me. Seeing Potter dead did not stir any particularly strong emotions, but it destroyed any hope I had been holding onto.

The next steps I took were possibly the hardest ones I ever had to take.

It was most definitely the longest minute I had ever had to live through. The emotional mayhem I was met with upon first stepping into that room knocked me backwards. The wall conveniently stopped me from falling back.

It was true. There was no way I could deny it now.

Lily Evans was dead.

My mind was pushing the possessive adjective to the back of my mind. She was not _my_ Lily anymore. In fact, she never quite was mine.

Of course, that did not change how seeing her body lying so lifelessly on that floor made me feel. All trace of logical thinking went out the window the second I had placed foot in that room. My mind barely registered the crying baby, the thunder making no impression on me anymore. It seemed that all the blood had left my body, leaving me inhumanly pale. Soundless sobs racked my body as I fell to my knees, beside her; beside the only woman I have ever loved, the only one who has ever made me feel good, truly good and needed.

I cannot tell how long I had spent there; kneeling on the floor, clutching onto Lily's body and begging for forgiveness. The one she had never granted me, the one she never would, the one that I had craved more than anything. That one word and she had never looked back, it was like throwing all you valued down a steep hill and watching it fall, breaking quickly and beyond repair on its way down.

The way I turned out left no place for a woman in my life and I wanted to blame Lily for that. I tried blaming Lily for that, just to make myself feel good, but then I would be blatantly lying to myself. I chose my own path and it was not Lily's fault.

I could not always help my thoughts though, and many a time I stopped and realized I was wishing that once, just once, Lily would look at me the way she looked at him. I wanted even if just a fleeting glance, one that carried even a fraction of the emotion she directed at Potter. The fiery passion was always there in her eyes… Who knew that loathing could turn into loving? Maybe she has never loathed him at all, merely convincing herself to feel that for reasons the male counterpart was unable to comprehend.

What if I had not called her that forsaken name? What if we never stopped being friends? She did not like whom I hung around with. We had a few disagreements about that. Would she ever be able to overlook all that and give us a chance? If I had not made that one fundamental mistake, would she – the kind and caring Lily I knew – ever be able to see me as something else than a friend, than that Slytherin git? Would I ever be able to make her feel what he did? Would I be able to make her happy the way he did? Would I even compare?

Nothing of that seemed to matter anymore. None of it did. She could not look at me for her green eyes looked no more, I could not tell her all that was left unsaid for she could not hear. It was a wish upon a star, a dream screamed into the silence; an unresolved issue of my heart. One that I would very soon push somewhere to the back of my mind and lock it there. My subconscious was undoubtedly drowning in the skeletons I had put there but I would rather they stay there.

I had resorted to rocking back and forth, my mind shutting down on me completely. I did not want to make sense of this, the guilt was pressing down on me. How could I continue to live with myself knowing that the one person who had believed in me was dead because of my mistake? How did someone go on knowing that?

I do not know why people call it heartache. It is not your heart that hurts. It is your whole body. My chest felt like a terrible weight was pressing down on it, my lungs burning, and my knees weak. My head was spinning, desperately trying to get hold on reality. I could not let it. If this was not even the full force of what I should be feeling if I let that dam break there was no telling what would happen.

I was not able to keep track of time. For all I knew what I thought was a minute could have been an hour.

At the point of breaking, when I thought that I could not possibly feel worse, could not possibly make myself feel more pain, I heard something. It was not the thunder, it was not the child, and it certainly was not me… My sobs had ceased into a soundless nothing, muted by the weight of reality. Another sound had me alert again. It was louder this time, somewhere downstairs. By the sound of it the door was completely knocked off.

I laid Lily down, letting my eyes take her in for the last time. With a broken spirit I closed her eyes and got to my feet. I did not know who was in the house and I had no desire to find out in my current mindset. It could have been anyone, even The Dark Lord himself considering nobody knew his current whereabouts – or at least that is what I thought.

I tore my gaze away from her.

I had to get away.

I heard something behind me. With a frown I turned around. I had completely forgotten about the child. What did they name him? Harold? Harris? Harry?

Like I have mentioned, logical thinking was practically inaccessible for me at that moment. He was the last piece of Lily left, the last thing that carried her memory in something less fallible than one's mind and memory. How could I leave him for the unknown? How could I let him face the intruder on his own, whoever that might be? I might not be the best person known to mankind but I was not a monster either, despite the popular belief.

He was Lily's son as much as he was Potter's. The thought repelled me; his eyes – a perfect match for hers – pulled me back in.

The stairs creaked. Someone was making their way upstairs. I had no time to think, again having to act on impulse instead.

When I inexpertly picked that child up I had no idea what the consequences would be and how that was going to affect the course of history. I still do not quite know the full extent of it.

I did not look at him. I pressed him to my chest and grabbed his blanket. He was not crying anymore, the storm outside had ceased to a nothing it seemed. The silent aftermath of it was taunting.

I refused to look at her again, but as soon as I shut my eyes tightly she was right there. First as the little girl I had met and confided in all those years ago and all too quickly transforming into the woman I was fated to watch from afar. Pictures flashed through my mind, forcing tears to my eyes just when I thought I could cry no more.

With my heart pounding and echoing in my ears I clutched onto the last piece of Lily that was left and apparated out of there. With every grand finale comes a new beginning.

* * *

_1 September 1991._

"Did you pack Sinders?" I smirked, noting the rosy color that was now making itself apparent on Harry's cheeks.

"Father… I am not 5 anymore. I can't sleep with a… stuffed dragon at Hogwarts." He was speaking under his breath, anxiously looking around to check if anyone heard.

"I see. I do not suppose that rule extends to our home. You did sleep with him yesterday, did you not?" The look he presented me with was a cross between a glare and… a somewhat pleading one.

We walked in silence for the next minute or so, passing more muggles than I cared to pay attention to. What came with appearing at such places was wearing suitable clothing. Of course, we would not want to stick out according to Harry. The boy had his fair share of such clothes and he seemed to be quite happy – or at least indifferent – about wearing them. I, on the other hand, had resorted to transforming my every day wear into a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt and a jacket. There was no end to Harry's teasing.

Speaking of the devil, he was tugging on my sleeve. I looked down just as we reached platform 9 & 10.

"Uh, Father, do you remember the time we talked about… how you get to the other platform?"

I raised my eyebrow at him, questioningly. He seemed conflicted.

"Go on, say it boy."

"What if I run into the wall?"

I frowned. I was not quite following his trail of thought. "You do remember you are SUPPOSED to run into the wall?"

He looked up at me, unamused. Those green eyes bringing me back in time. I did not think I could ever get over that, ever NOT feel the way I did when I looked at him.

It was Harry's idea to let him get the Hogwarts Express like the rest of the first years. He always travelled to Hogwarts by Floo with me. I was not worried about him adapting. He had spent a good part of his life living in Hogwarts, but that came with the fact that he was being raised by a professor. I could not say that it was the worst place to raise a child in. The boy never seemed to put his head to rest; he had always been up to something. It could have been having tea parties with Albus Dumbledore – yes, the Headmaster did enjoy his imaginary pumpkin juice – or chasing after Peeves who had grown tired of trying to get rid of the boy.

He grew up well, despite all of that. He learned quickly and eagerly. I had no doubts about him excelling in Potions, Defence Against The Dark Arts and such. He seemed to enjoy doing Charms too.

I remembered the first time he showed his magic; really showed it. He was refusing to eat anymore of his dinner; he wanted dessert claiming that if he ate anymore there would be no place for cake. Once he got irritated enough the left-over food on his plate transformed into a peppermint cake. Imagine his delight.

"Do you want me to go first?"

He did not look up at me. He was gripping onto his trolley so tightly his knuckles were white; his gaze was fixed on the wall. He shook his head stubbornly. I stepped back and let my hand fall from his shoulder. He inhaled deeply and set off. I could not help but feel somewhat proud.

I followed him right after he disappeared.

I found him standing a mere foot away from me, his expression worried as he watched the students saying goodbye and getting onto the train. It puzzled me. He was going back to the place he went to every year, why was he worried now? I moved to stand beside him.

"What's wrong?" He did not move, he did not look up, he did not answer. With a roll of my eyes I moved in front of him, leaning down to get to his eye level. "What's wrong?"

The repeated question seemed to finally get to him. He looked at me, rather than our surroundings.

"What if I'm not sorted into Slytherin? What if I can't find any friends? What if I disappoint you? What if I can't keep up with everyone?" Questions were spilling out of him. He leaned in closer to me and whispered the last one. "What if they hate me?"

"That is the most ridiculous…" I began with an almost scolding tone, but stopped myself seeing the distress on his face. I sighed and tried again. "I do not care what house you end up in, you should not either. Do you remember what the Headmaster told you about the Sorting Hat?"

He nodded hesitantly. "He said that… the Hat takes your… thoughts into… into…"

"…Consideration, yes. As for the other kids I can guarantee you; among the hundreds of them that you will meet at least some will be very content to call you their friend. Not everyone will like you, that would be quite impossible, but you will not be alone. I will still be there if you need me, understand?"

He nodded slowly, now letting a small smile onto his face. I nodded back; too many good feelings all at once. With a pat on his shoulder I stood up.

"You should run along now. All the compartments will be taken…" He looked at the train but instead of setting off for it he turned back around and flung his arms around my waist. Taken aback by the sudden display of affection I awkwardly put my hands on his shoulders and squeezed. I heard a muffled 'thank you'. These moments always took me off guard. I did not think I could ever get over those.

"Well, well, what a pleasant sight." Looking to the source of the voice I found myself looking at one Lucius Malfoy. Little Draco was standing behind him with Narcissa. He looked curious, his bleach blonde hair combed back perfectly. He was the image of his father.

"Lucius." I acknowledged his presence. Harry peeked out at the newcomers before moving away from me. Narcissa was hugging Draco and the boy looked quite embarrassed by it. It suddenly struck me that Harry did not seem to feel ashamed of the fact that he hugged me. He did not care if people saw that he was hugging Severus Snape. Sometimes I thought that boy taught me more than I taught him.

"Now, now, Draco, you will miss your train." The blonde boy took his trunk; Harry followed his lead, the pair whispering a hello to each other while Lucius tried to make small talk. Harry was not overly fond of Malfoy Junior, but he tolerated him and played with him on occasion. He thought he was overly boastful and pompous – which I stood by completely – but Harry and I could think of worse company (Malfoy Senior being a perfect example).

Harry muttered a quick 'see you in the castle' to me and was off, hurrying after Draco who was all too eager to get on the Hogwarts Express. I stayed a while longer as I had promised Harry. The Malfoys had too.

I would never expect that I would be standing on Platform 9¾, watching a little boy waving to me as the train I was once so happy to get on took him on his first of many journeys. I could not believe it was making me feel so many conflicting emotions all at once.

I was sure Lily Evans was laughing at me from above.

_"And so fear is forced deep within the soul of a hero. Conquered...at least, for now..."_


End file.
